Simple Tasks
by the misanthropic lycanthrope
Summary: Fry attempts to undertake a simple errand. Trouble ensues. Fry/Leela overtones.
1. Chapter 1

Stuff: I'm going to post this fic in chapters because I think it maybe easier for me to cope with (although the jury's still out on that one.) This first part's a bit short and not much happens, but it gets more exciting! I've put it in the "humor" category, although since not everybody gets my humour, that's another one for the jury to consider.

Thanks go to Wei, for it was my inability to do your assignment that led to the creation of this fic; and to Jon for suddenly turning up while I was at work and putting me in a weird state of mind (in a good way!)

Have fun, Drifty.

**

* * *

**

**Simple Tasks**

Finding Fry slouched in his typical spot on the couch in front of the TV wasn't surprising, but still elicited a sigh from Leela. It was only as she walked past that she realized there was no light or sound coming from the TV set. In fact, it wasn't even on.

"Fry? What are you doing?" she asked, but her question got no response. Fry continued to stare at the blank screen.

"Fry?" she repeated his name, this time with the addition of a wave of her hand in front of his face. This approach worked. Fry's gaze shifted from the TV set and settled on her. His brain slowly registered her presence.

"Oh, hi!"

"What's going on?" Leela asked, still wondering what he was doing. "Is the TV broken?"

"No," Fry replied. "At least not that I know of." He glanced at the set suspiciously. "Why? What's Bender been doing?"

"Nothing," Leela reassured him. "Well, probably something, but nothing with the TV." As she said it, she knew that there was a high probability that the robot had, in fact, done something with the TV, but that wasn't important right now. "What I meant was why are you sitting here watching a blank screen?"

"Ah. Well, the Professor gave me some task to do," Fry said as if this explained all the mysteries of the Universe.

"And...?" Leela prompted.

"And I forgot what it was."

"Huh? How could you forget?"

"It wasn't difficult. See, I wasn't really listening when he was telling me what to do."

Leela nodded, unsurprised.

"So," Fry continued. "I thought I'd watch some TV in the hope it'd come back to me, but after I'd sat down I realized I didn't have the remote and I couldn't see it anywhere. Getting up to search for it seemed like pointless expenditure of energy that I could use to do something more interesting."

"Ookay..." Leela said, exasperated by the stupidity of that explanation. "So have you remembered?"

"Remembered what?"

Leela sighed. She was beginning to wish she had never initiated this conversation.

"How would you like to do something for me instead?" she offered.

"Yeah, sure," Fry immediately agreed. "Hold on," he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Like what?"

"A delivery."

"Hmm..." Fry considered this. "I'm not sure that would count as a more interesting expenditure of the energy I saved by not looking for the remote."

"Do _you_ even know what you're talking about?" Leela asked.

"However," Fry continued. "That is what I do, so it shouldn't be too difficult. What is it?"

Leela fetched a small package from the table. "I need this package delivered to the address written on the front." She handed him the parcel that was about the size of a book.

Fry studied that address. "But that's all the way across the city!" he exclaimed.

"You can take a tube," Leela said. "Besides, like you said, it's your job. I'm sure you can handle it."

"Of course I can handle it," Fry said indignantly as he got up clutching the package. "And maybe when I get back I could take you out for dinner-"

"Fry," Leela warned. "This job does not require you to hit on me."

"Aw, but that _would_ be a more interesting-and way more fun-use of energy."

"Just go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be out of my hair-I mean, the sooner you'll get back. And don't forget to bring back what they give you in return."

"You mean, like a receipt?" Fry enquired, having completely missed Leela's point about him getting out of her hair.

"Not really, but sure...kinda. Bye." She practically pushed him out of the door, looking forward to getting some peace-something she realized she'd had before she'd brought him out of his stupor.

"I'll be back soon," Fry said by way of a farewell as he found himself outside.

"Lovely," Leela muttered as she closed the door.

As she found herself alone, with nothing urgent to be done, she decided she could take a few minutes to relax. _Maybe I'll watch some TV_, she thought, taking the seat vacated by Fry. She cast around for the remote. _Where the hell _is_ that thing? Bender..!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Stuff:** If anyone's actually reading this, good for you! Here's the second chapter. It ends on a bit of a downer for some reason.

Drifty

* * *

Standing outside of the Planet Express building, Fry glanced around for a few minutes considering the myriad methods available to him for transportation across the city. He could do as Leela had suggested, but some part of his mind suggested that it was a nice day for a walk. 

Maybe he should get some exercise. Besides, in the inevitably slightly longer intervening period between him leaving and returning, perhaps Leela would change her mind about dinner. Fry doubted it, but he lived in hope.

Setting off down the street, Fry realized he didn't actually know where this place he was supposed to be finding was. Heading in the general direction was a good start, though.

The decision to walk seemed to be having a positive effect on Fry. He began to whistle and smile at the people he passed. He didn't even notice when he wandered into a dark alleyway.

"Hey, you!"

The sudden call caused Fry to cease whistling and turn around. The owner of the voice appeared to be a ragged, scrawny-looking robot.

"Good morning," Fry greeted, wondering why the robot was eyeing him in such a strange manner. He got his answer when a ray of light glinted off something sharp and pointy in the robot's hand.

In fact, the knife _was_ the robot's hand.

"Empty your pockets onto the floor," the robot growled.

_Great_, Fry thought. _I'm being mugged_. The robot took a menacing step towards him, and Fry hurried to comply.

"Here," he said, dropping the few meagre coins and assorted pocket lint onto the ground as requested. The robot looked at the contents of Fry's pockets then glared back up at him.

"Now take off the pants."

"What!" Fry exclaimed. "That's stupid."

The robot took another step forward, waving his knife-hand threateningly.

"Okay, okay..." Fry fumbled with his pants and deposited them on the ground, too.

"And that package," the robot now demanded, gesturing at Leela's parcel Fry still held in his hand.

"No way," Fry replied shaking his head. He was _not_ going to mess up this delivery.

"Do it," the robot snarled. Fry backed off, clutching the package to his chest.

Almost immediately, the robot seemed to switch to extreme-mugging mode, growing larger and wider, his other hand changing into a variety of other weaponry like sort kind of freakish Swiss Army knife.

Fry gulped. "Uh, I'll be going now. Nice to meet you." He spun on his heel and fled in the opposite direction.

Even through the sound of his feet pounding the ground and the blood rushing past his ears, Fry could hear the heavy footfalls of the robot close behind him. Hardly looking where he was going Fry pushed through a set of doors and only stopped running when his torso collided with a table.

Joining the table in its fall to the floor amongst a collection of plates, dishes and exquisitely prepared meals, Fry realized he was in a very posh, expensive-looking restaurant.

Fortunately, the robot didn't seem to have followed him in. Unfortunately, two security guards were now stood over him. "Sir, if you would come with us, please," one of them said.

"Uh..." Fry got to his feet and mumbled an apology to the startled family now sitting in their seats around the destruction that had been their meal. The guards grasped him by the elbows and led him back to the entrance, throwing him through the doors and back to the street.

Fry stood and brushed himself off, glancing around warily in case the mugger robot was still hanging around. There didn't seem to be any sign of him.

Sighing with relief, Fry started off again, checking on the package, which seemed okay. Still nervous, he didn't recommence his whistling but instead started to hum a spirit-lifting tune.

The sudden squeal of a siren right behind him caused him to choke on the tune and involuntarily jump a foot off the sidewalk. This time he turned around to find himself facing two familiar faces in the blue uniform of the police.

"I'm afraid you're under arrest," one cop announced.

"We're taking you in, baby," his robot partner agreed.

"Huh? Why? I haven't done anything. It's that-" Fry's argument was cut short by the cop's interruption.

"That's not what our report says. Causing commotion in a respectable establishment, not wearing any pants..."

"They were stolen!" Fry insisted.

"Yeah, a likely story. We banged up the Serial Pants Thief last year."

"The what?" Fry spluttered as the cops busied themselves cuffing him and manoeuvring him into the back of their car.

"Everything you're saying is being taken down for evidence for use in a court of law," one of the cops informed him as the drove him to the station.

"Evidence for what? It's not my fault! This is a set-up! I've been framed!" Fry blurted from the backseat.

"That's what they all say," the cop replied in a bored, world-weary, I've-heard-it-all-before tone.

Before he knew it, Fry was bundled out of the cop car and into a holding cell.

"You just sit here while we examine the evidence and get some donuts." The cops left him, taking the package to safe keeping while Fry was in custody.

"Be careful with that!" Fry called after them, but the cops had already started discussing donuts and their variety of fillings and toppings.

Fry sighed and sank onto the bunk, staring at his bare knees and wondering if he was going to get out of the cell and deliver Leela's package before too much time passed. She obviously already thought he was incompetent, and he was just providing her with further evidence she was correct in her supposition.


	3. Chapter 3

**Stuff: **This is a bit of a weird chapter!

* * *

"You're free to go." 

"Huh?" Fry stared blankly at the police officer standing on the other side of the cell bars.

"It's true. Our enquiries have resulted in the testimony of twenty six-and-a-half eyewitnesses who all report seeing you fleeing from a large lizard monster and diving into the restaurant for cover," the officer explained.

"It wasn't a lizard-" Fry stopped as the cop began to look as if he was changing his mind about releasing him. "I mean, of course. Why would I lie?"

The cop unlocked the door and led Fry to the reception area.

"Okay, if you could just sign here...You are agreeing to being released on the condition that you find some pants before destroying any more eating establishments, or you risk being arrested again."

"Uh, sure, whatever," Fry agreed, signing his name. "Now if you'll give me back my package, I'll go and wear as many items of clothing as you like."

"That's not necessary, sir," the cop intoned as he returned Leela's package.

Fry wasted no time in leaving the police station and continuing on his way. He thought that finding some more pants to wear would be a good idea. Not just because he faced being picked up by the cops again for walking around barelegged, but because it was actually quite drafty.

As he was thinking these thoughts, Fry noticed he was passing a couple of young men loitering outside a house. Loud music was issuing from the open doorway. One of the youths gave him a wave and called, "Hey, man."

"Hi," Fry replied, taking in the guy's multi-colored hair and flamboyant clothes. He was holding a bottle of some kind of alcohol. Apparently, he and his friends were having a party.

"Wanna drink?" the guy offered. With no hesitation, Fry eagerly accepted.

The guy, who informed Fry his name was Kolin- "With a K."- lead him into the house and over to a well-stocked bar in the corner. He waved a hand at the selection of beverages on offer, inviting Fry to pick one. Fry did.

The drink, which seemed to be some kind of tangy, liver-flavored beer, was surprizingly refreshing and immediately made Fry forget about the time spent in the police cell.

"You don't happen to have any spare pants, do you?" Fry asked Kolin.

"Sure, man. I've got loads. I only need to wear one pair at a time. Let me grab you some." Kolin, who was beginning to closely resemble a frog, went into another room before shortly reappearing with a pair of bright orange pants with green stripes and pink flames around the cuffs.

"Wow, these are great!" Fry enthused, pulling them on. There was no longer any draft, but there did seem to be a buzzing, gradually increasing in volume. "What's that sound?" Fry enquired.

Kolin shrugged. "The music?"

"Oh, yeah." Fry looked around. "Y'know, the air's a bit purple in here, I think I might go outside for a bit."

Stumbling toward the door, Fry pushed his way through the purple air, which had taken on a hint of pineapple, and finally fell on to the sidewalk outside.

_The concrete is quite comfortable tonight_, Fry thought, wondering why he could feel the heat of the Sun on his back if it was night. _Why are my feet cold? What's that glorious pulsing light?_

The flashing red and blue lights became brighter and a higher-toned wail had joined the buzzing.

Fry felt himself rising from the ground, obviously by some kind of levitation. He hadn't known he could do that.

All of a sudden he seemed to be surrounded by walls. Another neat trick! And now it was getting darker, save the bright dancing spots of red and yellow, that is...


	4. Chapter 4

_It's a _cell!

Lying on a cot, Fry looked up at the gray ceiling and the tops of the four gray walls. He immediately recognized where he was and couldn't believe he was there. Again.

What was worse was that he couldn't clearly remember the events that had led up to this return visit. Something about a pineapple?

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Fry felt a wave of nausea. Had he been drinking? Probably, he decided. It felt like he had a hangover, a feeling he was well acquainted with. But there was a slight difference. And the only conclusion that would account for the pineapple was that his drink had been spiked.

The events of the party returning to him, Fry looked down at his legs. As he did so he felt nauseous again. Why was he wearing such a fashion disaster? The bright clashing colors began to give him a headache, so he glanced away and then realized he wasn't wearing his shoes.

_Great, somehow I've lost more items of clothing._

A cop appeared at the door of the cell. "Ah, you've regained conciousness, then," he said happily.

"I was drugged!" Fry explained, hoping the officer wouldn't remember him from before, but, alas, no such luck.

"You're becoming a bit of a regular customer, aren't you Mr Fry?" the cop said with a smirk. He looked like he was enjoying Fry's latest incapacitation. "Unfortunately, we have medical evidence that you were drugged, so I can release you."

_Unfortunate for you, you mean,_ Fry thought as the door was unlocked.

"I suggest you find some footwear, though," the officer said as he led Fry back to the foyer.

"Why? Is it illegal to walk around without shoes too?"

"No, just painful," the cop grinned, handing Fry the package. Fry gave a sarcastic smile and once again left the police station.

Walking along the sidewalk, Fry soon realized that the cop had been right about how not wearing shoes could be painful. Small pieces of rock, and other assorted trash, jabbed into the soles of his feet and there was nothing he could do about it. Until he saw the front of a shoe store that was.

The carpeted floor of the store was a such a relief to Fry's feet that he stood in the doorway for a few minutes letting the pain from the sharp junk on the sidewalk dissipate.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Fry looked up and saw a woman wearing a store uniform regarding him curiously.

"Um, yes actually," Fry replied, nodding eagerly. "I need some shoes."

"So I see," the woman sniffed, looking with unhidden distaste at Fry's unshod feet. "Come with me."

Fry did as he was told, and found himself in a small clearing surrounded by stacks of boxes from which the woman was already pulling a variety of shoes.

"I'm not sure we have anything that will go with those pants," she said, comparing the color of a pair of sneakers with the awful pants.

"It doesn't matter," Fry insisted. "I just need something to stop my feet getting stabbed by rocks and junk."

"Try these on," the woman said, handing Fry a pair of platformed shoes that looked like something from the Seventies. _His_ Seventies.

"I'm not sure they're really suitable-" Fry stopped as he slid them on. "Wow, actually they're really cool!"

"Excellent!" the woman exclaimed. "That'll one hundred-and-twenty dollars."

Fry's brows rose and he was about to refuse but then he caught sight of the shoes again. "Okay!" he agreed and dove a hand into his pocket. "Oh, yeah, that's right. I was mugged," he remembered with disappointment.

"Do you have the money, sir?"

"Yes," Fry quickly replied. "I just have to go to the bank because eveything I had on me was stolen. I was mugged."

"Yes, I know."

Fry was confused. "How can you know about that?"

"You mentined it just a second before you told me again."

"Did I? I was also drugged," Fry added by way of explanation.

The woman was beginning to look suspicious, so Fry got to his feet. "Just hold them for me for a few minutes. I'll be back when I've been to the bank."

"Okay, sir," the woman sighed, not sounding at all convinced. Regardless, Fry left the store and headed for the nearest bank.

Luckily, luck being something Fry hadn't experienced much of lately, there was a bank just around the corner and there was even a teller waiting for any customers.

Approaching the counter, Fry noticed the female's hair. It was green and stuck up in a number of spikes all pointing in different directions. The image of a pineapple came into Fry's mind and a full minute passed before he was able to forget about pineapples, and fruit in general, and begin speaking to the teller.

"Yeah, hi, I need some money," he said in a rush.

"Well, you've come to the correct place," the woman with the hair smiled at him, seemingly unfazed by his weird behavior.

"I was mugged and now I need to buy some shoes since I lost mine after my drink was spiked when I was at a party borrowing some pants because mine were stolen."

"That's an interesting story," his teller commented as she typed some information onto a screen in front of her. "If I could just take your name?"

"Everyone put your hands on your heads and bring out all the money!"

"What? That's not my name," Fry complained, but as he glanced around to find out who had spoken he came face-to-face with a robot holding some kind of evil looking weapon.

"This is a robbery!" the robot explained in case anyone hadn't yet worked it out for themselves. "Do as I demand and no one gets hurt. Except possibly you." The robot was glaring directly at Fry.

"Hey! Why me?" Fry protested.

"Because I don't like you."

"So? There are loadsa people who don't like me!"

"That I can vouch for." A new voice. One Fry found extremely familiar.

"Bender!"

"The one and only," the robot announced.

"Are you going to tell this guy not to shoot me?" Fry asked wondering why his friend wasn't jumping to his aid.

"Maybe later," Bender replied sounding bored, and Fry wondered why he had wondered that at all. Bender turned to the bank-robbing robot. "Can you hurry up so we can get outta here? There's a new bar around the corner with some of the latest models as in-house dancers."

"You know this guy?" Fry asked his friend incredulously, then again wondered why he was incredulous.

"Sure, we go way back," Bender said as the other robot got to work forcing the bank staff to stuff sacks with money. "Unfortunately he tends to take his time with this kind of thing. Fortunately, I think I've got a spare bottle in here somewhere." He began rooting around in his chest cavity in search of the beer, and pulled out a small rectangular device which he discarded before continuing his search.

"Hey," Fry said, bending down to retrieve the object. "This is the TV remote!"

"So it is," Bender muttered boredly.

"I was looking for it this morning," Fry continued, waving the remote at the robot.

"You should've aksed me, then," Bender replied, choosing to ignore the obvious fact that he hadn't been around_ to_ ask.

"Put you're hands up and drop your weapons!" Another demand was issued from the doorway. Two robberies at the same time? Fry pondered.

No. The new voice belonged to an armed police officer in protective clothing. Surprizingly, the bank-robbing robot did as he was bidden and stopped his money-gathering, dropping his weapon as he did so.

"I said DROP your WEAPONS!" the cop repeated.

"He has," Fry pointed out, before noticing the cop was speaking to him.

"Huh? No, this isn't a weapon. I'm not robbing anyone!" Fry spluttered, holding up the remote in an attempt to prove his point.

At that moment, he was tackled by two burly police officers and the three of them fell to the floor in an ungainly heap.

As he felt the restraints being secured around his wrists, Fry resigned himself to yet another trip to the cell at the police station. But, as two cops led him from the bank and toward one of the cars outside, the crack of a shot cut through the air behind him and suddenly his arm prickled with fire and everything turned black. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

**S****tuff: **This was a long time coming, for which I apologize. Thanks for all the reviews, though (well, most of them, anyway!). They're always appreciated.

As always, have fun.

Drifty.

* * *

This time there was a different colored ceiling. It was white and tiled. Plus, there was the distinct smell of disinfectant in the air, adding to the general sense of sterility. The face peering at him was the same, though. 

"Ah, welcome back," the cop said.

"Huh? Where am I?" Fry spluttered. "This isn't a cell!"

"No, this is a hospital," the cop explained patiently. "You were shot, remember?"

Now Fry _was_ beginning to remember. "You shot me!" Fry cried indignantly, and began to push himself up to gain a better position for yelling at the cop. However, he was stopped by the pain that shot from his shoulder down his entire arm.

The cop coughed lightly. "Yes, it seems we made a small mistake."

"A 'small mistake'! What did you think I was gonna do with a remote control? Maybe it was part of the same plan I had to disrupt a restaurant, drug myself, and steal my own clothing!"

"Uh, well, we got the results of the lab tests back and they concluded that the device you were brandishing during a bank robbery was definitely not a weapon-"

"Well, duh!"

"And, therefore, you were not involved with the robbery."

"Obviously!"

Fry leaned back on the bed, pleased that finally, maybe, this insanity was over. The cop handed him back the remote.

"The doctors have said you're okay to leave, so we'll drop you off somewhere if you like." The cop now seemed to want to help.

Fry suddenly recalled Leela's package, and panicked for a second until he saw that someone with some sense had put it onto the little cupboard next to his bed. He picked it up and waved the address at the cop. "I'd like to go here."

The man squinted at the writing for a second. "Oh, that's easy," he said. "It's just around the corner."

* * *

Fry stepped out of the police hover-car onto the sidewalk, after an incredibly short journey from the hospital to his destination. 

"Have a nice day, Mr Fry," the cop called, before driving off again.

"Yeah, right, like it's gonna improve," Fry muttered to himself as he turned to look at the building that corresponded to the address Leela had given him, and was immediately proved correct.

The letters in the front window announced: _Mr. Sam's Dry Cleaning._

Fry tried to speak, but ended up spluttering something that wasn't quite words. Inside, he was greeted by an old man behind a counter with a huge smile.

"Welcome! How may I be of service to you?"

Fry glared at the man, but that didn't cause his smile to diminish.

He tossed the package onto the counter. "My _friend_ sent me to bring you this," he growled, now sure that Leela had sent him on a stupid trip to sort out her dry cleaning.

The old man-apparently Mr Sam- opened the package and removed a couple of dirty shirts and a small slip of paper. "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, "Wait there a second!" He disappeared through to a back room, and returned half a minute later with some clothes wrapped into protective paper.

"These are the ones she left last week that are now ready." He handed Fry, whose expression of bewilderment and anger had not yet even flinched.

"Yeah, whatever, thanks," Fry hissed and turned to leave.

"Have a nice day!"

Fry would have throttled the man, if the door hadn't hit him in the face when he turned back to do so.

* * *

"Dry cleaning?" 

"Fry, what happened to you?!" Leela took in Fry's odd clothing, lack of shoes and bandaged arm. "You've been gone for hours, and you look...awful."

"Dry cleaning?"

"Yes, Fry." Leela took the freshly cleaned clothes from Fry's hand. "That's what it is."

"You sent me to pick up your dry cleaning?"

"Yes, and you thought that involved becoming some kind of beat-up fashion disaster?"

"I had my pants stolen, partly destroyed a restaurant, was drugged and lost my shoes, was arrested-/twice/, wound up in the middle of a bank heist, and was _shot_!" Fry blurted angrily at Leela. His anger had only grown during his trip back to Planet Express, for which he had jumped in the nearest tube and returned in a matter of seconds.

Now, worried, Leela led him to a seat. "How did you manage that?"

"It's all your fault. You got me to do your lame errands, and I end up almost getting killed. Multiple times."

"Only you could almost get killed going to the dry cleaners," Leela stated, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"It's not funny!" Fry growled. Leela caught another look at Fry's pants and decided it definitely _was_ funny.

Bender entered the room just then. "Hey, dude, have you got the TV remote? I can't find it anywhere. I was sure I had it earlier-" The robot's speech was cut off as he was hit in the head with the remote.

Fry stood and was about to storm out, but Leela grabbed his hand before he could leave. Her face displayed a feeling of mild guilt. It had been her, after all, who had thought, mistakenly, that Fry could benefit from getting away from the TV and doing something helpful.

"How about we go for that meal?"

Fry immediately forgot everything that had happened prior to that moment.


End file.
